Treppensteigen
by Spermdevil
Summary: Something more peculiar than Draco Malfoy or Voldemort is going to be Harry's arch nemesis: The bloody stairs which lead to the girl's dormitory. After all – his greatest achievement is to let them crumble under his very shoes. Trans!Harry, Harry Potter/Neville Longbottom (later on)


Author's Note: I am an experienced fanfiction writer, BUT, well... in German language. It felt slightly off when I tried to write a German Harry Potter fanfiction, so I decided to write it in English. As you may have guessed: I'm not a native English speaking person, although, I think for a 15 year-old, I do it rather well. Try not to be enraged with faults I'm going to make. - _Spermdevil, the mighty and misty devil of sperm_

He never had ever thought of the problems that would wait at Hogwarts. Harry only had so far dealt with the good sides – you know, like, not having to deal with his relatives for a whole school year and finally getting to know his parents through this magnificent world.

Never would he have thought that not Draco Malfoy, the slimy little git he was, was going to be his most hatred being in the world, but _stairs_ …

Specifically, stairs to the girl's dormitory. Yes, he tried desperately to just forget that he was neither male nor permitted to sleep in the boy's dormitory. That was until... well... the sorting came. It began with "Harriet Potter", continued with him being in Ravenclaw rather than Gryffindor due to his special point of view in life and ended with the stairs.

They would collapse, the prefect had said, if any male individual tried to climb them. Harry had hopes that they would, alas, they didn't. They did not even churn as he set his foot onto the first stair. They didn't do anything at all.

It discouraged him to a greater part than he had thought it would. The girls, who also were in their first year, thus, future class mates, looked at him strangely as his face was set in stone the time he had reached the top of the stairs.

Harry Potter swore to himself, that by the end of fourth year, he would get them destroyed as hell!

"Mate... gosh, sorry, keep thinking that you're a guy 'cause of the hair an' stuff... anyways, could you give me your Herbology assignment? Didn't do it last night."

Harry ignored Terry Boot. The green-eyed boy would have liked to hex his ass off, but kept to himself, going fast-paced to the Potion's classroom. He had Potion's class with the Slytherins which was an oddity because the last decades, Slytherins and Gryffindors were paired for this class, as Harry had heard from Cho Chang, one of his fellow Ravenclaws.

As a relative of his relatives he questioned certain things since he "fell" out of the crib and broke his left arm when, in fact, Uncle Vernon tried to get rid of him right away. Harry was glad that from then on he would sleep under the stairs, because his dear Uncle couldn't reach him if he hid in the corner of the cupboard and yes, a good amount of his childhood's time he spent just there, waiting for the moment it would come in handy.

The moment never came but he questioned things since then.

So, Harry Potter questioned Dumbledore's choice to put him into class with Slytherin's head, Severus Snape and the first year snakes themselves. He decided, after Snape strode in with billowing robes which may or may not made him resemble a bat, and the little speech about his fame and where Harry could stick it, namely into his rear, that Dumbledore was a sadistic old man, trying to actually make him commit suicide.

Yes, that had to be precise.

He read a lot and when he didn't read, he ate. Seriously, after being denied good food for so long, he had taken up an interest in getting to know all kinds of taste and which combined well together.

"Harriet? Could you... eat like a proper girl?" a female voice asked him "kindly" as he shovelled some more of the treacle tart on his plate. In an instant his head turned to his left side, where a girl with black hair and glasses on the top of her nose sat with a cliché feminine pose.

Inwardly, Harry contained his anger and then smiled. His face really must have looked scarring, because the girl swallowed as she read his expression.

"I'm not a girl, my dear." He said, choking back the venom he would have liked to put into his voicing.

The girl to his left laughed. "You have breasts and a female voice. You ARE a girl, Harriet. Well, not the most maintained, I dare to say."

In a split second you could hear a crack. Everyone turned to face the Ravenclaw table and saw a knife which stuck in the table itself. Harry grinned and said with his sweetest tone: "Actually, no, I AM a boy. Harry Potter, nice to meet you. I hope we don't have any leftover misunderstandings." As he pointed towards the knife, still stuck in the wooden table.

Then, he stood up and went swiftly to the Ravenclaw's tower. He needed his time alone.

After solving a rather easy riddle, Harry went into the common room. Shoot, these blasted stairs from hell's pit were, like, challenging him right away. Spending five minutes glancing at the stairs, Harry Potter gave in and turned to Harriet Potter, the Girl Who Climbed.


End file.
